


To Be A

by HomesickAlien



Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Also the hero wears a skirt i think this tag is more enticing lol, But thats actually just because i happened to be replaying this part and had a Thought lol, Gender, I should probably write serious tags lol, M/M, the 11erik is more implicit sorry, this is Act I so ppl who read fanfics before they finish games this ones for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23944087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomesickAlien/pseuds/HomesickAlien
Summary: But equally there's a need for being soppy on a hilltop.The main character, who carries the plot with him and twitches as it thickens.Who can sting when stung, and uncork the pores.And if maleness won't sob, then be a girl!
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	To Be A

**Author's Note:**

> I was talking to myself about it lately, but I had an awful feeling wash over me today about Gender, so I figured I’d muddy my hands at that Gender Writing and see what I thought of it. I guess it’s alright to share, but if no one reads it I wouldn’t be sad. Oh well!

There are times the Hero can’t parse his own feelings.

Maybe he’d like to let be with what he knows: a small, quiet boy from an inoffensive little village, who’s future would be laid out for him on a stone road to home… The boy he was before he left home probably wouldn’t believe the kind of man he’s growing up to be—  _ I mean, the little one hadn’t even recognized him, or maybe he did, that’s besides the point—  _ but probably the last thing he would have expected…

Is how nice it is to wear a skirt.

...Out of any other teenage boy, that probably comes off as strange. This isn’t the same kind of growing pain, as getting favors from women or gambling all their money away. Those kinds of strange things are normal for boys growing into some unprompted “manhood,” he himself never signed up for.

He’s aware of it without having the means to express frustration. No amount of self awareness can deflate the reality of social standings, and it’s the intimacy he shares with himself that is part of why he refrains from giving his vocal input most of the time. Even now, he finds it easier to gesture to his closest partner than to actually fight with voicing his opinions. But it’s different to try and comprehend the things you didn’t even know about yourself, he realizes this more and more each day spent with them.

He’s only just met his other grandfather, after all, and his big sister, for the first time. How could he expect to know all about himself following that?

He remembers a lot more fondly, the boy from Octagonia who had shared a similar thought after meeting his friend. He wonders how everyone else manages to bypass it, as useful as Sylvia has been to them  _ now,  _ it goes without saying the Hero were the one doing the most convincing to the others to allow her to stay with them. And maybe it’s because they are a little older, and a little wiser, and a little more journeyed than him that they already know what it is they lack.

For the Hero, it would be his first time.

Which brings him to this moment, enjoying something he’s pretty sure he was put to do as a joke, though not for any of them. He’s the one who was crowned an “honorary lady,” at this academy, after all, handed all these cute uniforms—  _ He wasn’t going to admit until after Sylvia did, what a cute place this were. How nice it would be, to be a—  _ It would be a real shame not to wear them. He wonders who said that? He’s looking at the culprit in the bathroom mirror. 

He’s probably put the girls through enough torture, with regards to armor, but he can’t help but think these ones aren’t half bad. Maybe, they’re even a little bit  _ too _ conservative. Maybe, that’s part of the appeal. He really doesn’t have the mind for these kinds of things. 

“Hey, how long does it take you t’change?”

He hears a soft knock against the wooden door, and he’s sure Erik has his back leaned against it all cool-like. The Hero’s image of himself is pretty meek, but when he thinks of Erik he can only see the best of them. That feeling may be mutual, he’d rather not read into it with the two most frightening of knights of Heliodor still hot on their trail, and a heavy birthright pressing down on his hand.

It does feel lighter when Erik is at his side, but that’s besides the point. He hates that kind of teasing, and decides, regardless of how mentally prepared he is, to shove open the door with all the might he can muster. Which is, he’d like to note, much,  _ much  _ more than when they’d first met. That large sword always burdening his aching back seems to get heavier with every swing. He might still have a boyish face, but it’d be odd to travel all this way without earning some muscle from it.

Erik laments his teasing square on the floor, but the Hero has trouble acknowledging him when the weight of his actions begins to crush him again. Swiftly, he can act on impulse, but when he realizes how soul-crushing it is to have all eyes on him, friends or not, he can’t think straight with it. He’d prefer to be turned to stone like the fairytales say, but really, he’s just shy.

Or something like that. He’s already learned enough about himself for one day, and it’s only morning.

Blessedly, it’s only three of them still waiting on him. Two, really. Jade isn’t acknowledging, with a dusty old book in her hands she’s doing her own legwork, but he suspects it has more to do with not wanting to embarrass him any. She doesn’t show it well, but she is quite doting, and all. He doesn’t really get it, she’s better a stranger to him, but he likes the concept of his sister being at his side. It brings him the comfort of Gemma, who’s charm he still clutches in his hands regardless of what he wears. 

And with Erik down for the count, momentarily, it really brings him down to one. He gratefully excludes all the girls in the Academy, some they’ve already spoken with commenting on his Goddess given beauty, and the one’s they’ve yet to chat up genuinely believing they might have a new student on their hands. In the strong arms of their universal  _ big sis,  _ he doesn’t really have the mind to pay it to. 

“Oh my, oh my! Your intuition is right as always, darling. You look adorable!”

Just as always, when he doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t at all. At least, it takes him some time to form the thoughts that extend past  _ yes-no  _ inquiries. But his face is expressive enough, and speaks for him; He’s beaming more than usual, a kind hearted smile that radiates like cherry blossoms falling in spring.  _ Too cute.  _ He’s getting a bit of a conflicted image of himself, but somehow when Sylvia is around he doesn’t mind at all. 

It’s something about her, she doesn’t need to say the thought outloud for all of them to welcome her. The Hero also… Would like to… 

“I don’t think… I pick them up so daintily…”

Be himself. Without explaining what that is. If he doesn’t even know himself, how can he express it? He’d never had to think of it before, in a small place where everyone knows your name before you do. 

But now, he’s surrounded with a lot of strange people who he’s performing for a show he hadn’t rehearsed yet. Is that what it is? He’d never thought to ask before, what makes a  _ boy  _ and what makes a  _ girl,  _ but he’d like not to know, either. He’s better off for it, he’ll be shedding a lot more innocence if he keeps treading this path. He’d like to hold onto that sliver, at least.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

He hears Erik voice from a distance, but he’s always closer than he seems to be. Always sneaking up on the Hero, in a kind of foolish way that would be more expected of friend boys and not two teenagers. There’s another word for that, he thinks, but he doesn’t need it. Reading between the lines,  _ partner  _ works just fine, too. 

Erik’s too short to bring his hands to the Hero’s shoulders to push him down from Sylvia’s hold, so he pulls at the back of his shirt, instead. Sylvia doesn’t follow through with that wish, only bringing the Hero closer into her hold, like a parent carrying about their dearest child. Sylvia suits the image of either or, but to refer to her age is more insulting, so the Hero accepts having two older sisters. 

“You’re always causing a ruckus wherever we go,” Erik crosses one of his arms, the other hand flailing to the motion of his words. “Throwing pots around and breaking into people’s stuff. Ain’t much of a luminary sometimes, are you?” 

“Is it weird?” The Hero speaks louder with his expressions than his voice, that’s generally too quiet to even hear. Maybe it’s an excuse, actually, to be closer when he speaks, but it’s become a genuine physical misalignment, now. Regardless of the reason, he can say a lot more with a steady glare, or wrapping his arms tighter around Sylvia’s shoulders. “Good stuff comes of it. Aren’t you a thief?” 

“Yeah, the silent kind.”

The Hero hums, a loud resonance in the halls of the Academy silenced by the clack of his flats hitting the wooden floor as he jumps out of Sylv’s arms. She keeps her own chortles to herself, there really is never a dull moment with boys, but these two are different than that. It would be an insult to herself not to notice, but she wonders when it is the others will pick up on it, because these two certainly never will.

He certainly fits the image of a school girl, a  _ prince _ in another sense of the word, the cool kind that others might look up to. They’re definitely being watched by them, in passing, but Erik overrides all the Hero’s lack of inhibition simply by existing. He wants something out of him, that he can only get by his own hands, and it takes dedication he’ll never have for something that actually matters. 

It matters to him, personally. A lot more than his initial destiny-imposed  _ saving the world,  _ although he’ll do that, too. And look good while doing it. Yes, that’s the real issue…

“Jerk.” Says the Hero, to the apparent confusion of his partner. He’s pointing directly at him, now, hand on his hip. He has a surprisingly intimidating aura when he gets serious about it, but maybe it’s just the unraveling mystique of a blunt man who never speaks.

“You went straight for the teasing. You didn’t even tell me how I look.”

“So? I don’t really need to say it, do I?”

“It’s a punishable offense.” The Hero crosses his arms, but it’s a lighthearted ribbing. He’s already smiling again, but it’s more of a sly kind of smirk that says to Erik his days are numbered. 

He doesn’t wait for Erik to start running before chasing after him. Neither of them have their weapons on hand, this isn’t  _ training  _ by any means, but a playful rebellion. Certainly, they’re going to get yelled at for running about these halls, completely shattering the  _ ‘image of a lady,’ _ that the Hero has so much promise for. 

He doesn’t really want to be either-or, just himself, after all. This must be the first step to that.

It’s hard to run in a long skirt like this, and Erik takes advantage of that. He’s already quicker than the Hero inherently, even without the headstart he’s nimble. He easily slips past the Hero, jumping off the ledge to the lower floor before he can even hope to catch up to Erik. He’s laughing, taunting him to knowing full well the Hero’s limits. 

He gives Erik an indiscernible look of grievance, grumbling a bitter noise to himself. He absolutely can’t jump from here, even if he could lift up his leg high enough over the railing, it’s a bit too revealing. As always, he’s beaten by his own embarrassment, but he’s forgotten a bit that they aren’t alone in this great big Academy. He startles when Sylvia brings him back into her gentle hold.

“Oh me, oh my〜 You know I can’t leave a maiden in despair, least of all our dear Hero.”

She winks at him, the all knowing eyes of God deep in her crystalline eyes. Or maybe just the eyes of an elder who knows what it means to  _ be a girl.  _

What a troublesome duo the two of them make. The image of the Hero conforms to whoever he so surrounds himself with— To Erik, he’s his lifelong partner in crime, and those last two words could definitely be scratched out in the Hero’s book without altering a thing, but…  **And then,** to those sisters, he really is a man of legend. In need of work, but proven steady. For Jade the image is entirely fictionalized on the concept of having a brother she’d never had the chance to know, and there are certainly secrets she’s getting out of him no one else will. For Rab it’s obvious enough, but with Sylv…

Oh, with Sylv, the chaotic boy that can’t keep his hands from breaking into things, and is always starting trouble with the lot of them,  _ loudly,  _ and without much logic to any of it…

Sylv could probably lead a whole show with the Hero front-and-center. 

Erik, for one, has had enough before the performance has even started—  _ This has to be why they keep catching our trail.—  _ He backs out slow and steady just before Sylvia flips down with grace off the second floor. Applauded by all the girls in the halls watching their commotion, maybe more invested by their utter lack of class than anything else. 

It’s the goofy little pose the two strike that give Erik his means of escaping out the front door. Sylvia is happy to soak in the attention of an adoring audience for the Hero, when he catches Erik running from him he’s quick to follow suit.

It’s truly not just Sylvia that the Hero can be noisy with, when he’s in the right mood, anyway. His laughter could give them away to the next town over, really. He hasn’t had so much fun since he were just a little kid back in Cobblestone.

He can’t linger on the memory too long without his heart sinking, but just a glimmer brings a shimmer to his eyes that he’d thought he’d lost recently. With so many heavy regrets piling up in his heart, it’s hard to find a reason to smile, but…

Bit by bit, they’ll remind him, the beautiful world they’re out to save. He’s the one who’s still yet to see it in full, a village boy who left the comfort of home with only a glimpse of the vastness of the sea.

They’re quick to pass their mates walking back in, he doesn’t catch the funny look his grandfather gives him as he passes him by. It’s too obscure to garner anything from it. Veronica, on the other hand, has a lot more to say. He can hear her calling them stupid from a mile away. He wears that insult like a badge of honor. He’s absolutely stupid when Erik is involved. 

He wonders why it is; This strange sensation that burns every inch of his skin, it’s something so soft and yet so passionate. He doesn’t have a word for it. He doesn’t want one. 

He just wants to hold Erik in his arms, tightly around the waist. That’s how he catches him, his laughter warm against the back of Erik's neck. He loses his own balance as soon as Erik is in his grasp, twirling around a bit trying to catch himself before he relents to falling into the comforting field of flowers they’re probably ruining, actually. He can hear one of the older lady’s hollering at them to get up out of the garden. He pays it no mind.

He’s ‘ _ not much of a hero, _ ’ after all. He never really was. 

He’s gotta be doing something right, though. For so many kind people to be following around his lead. Justifying his cause, pushing him forward, giving him the strength to fulfill his curious destiny.

Maybe that’s not so bad. He couldn’t imagine his life without them, but especially without…

“You can say it, now.” 

The hero speaks softly, directly to Erik, but in truth he’s probably speaking more to himself than anyone else.  _ We’re alone now. There’s nothing to hide. There’s nothing to be afraid of.  _

Sometimes, it seems like Erik can read the Hero’s mind directly. Maybe it’s just a talent he’s picked up being his voice for such a long while before the Hero had begun to rely on the others more. Maybe, it’s just another test of his faith, the fate that brought the two of them together first. 

Erik sits up in the greenery, although his hand finds its way to the Hero’s as if not to give too much distance. The Hero’s greatest challenge is stilling his heart when it threatens to beat out of his chest at the touch. Even if he knows the cause, he isn’t used to it one bit yet. 

“You don’t need me to tell you this, but…” 

Erik' hand fits so well in the Hero’s own. His are still pretty delicate, at his bare fingertips, they have to be. Indiscreet, that he can pilfer overly lackadaisical guards and townsfolk.  _ Not that the Hero’s seen him do anything of the sort since they’ve met.  _ The Hero’s hands are much more honest, rugged and beat up and blister filled from the grip he holds on those heavy swords. They tell one tale in reconciliation, of two shattered halves that most belong together. 

Erik’s eyes are so soft every time they meet his own. He can’t stand it.

“If that’s the kind of stuff you want to wear, you should.”

_ Mmm…  _ The Hero hums, tightening his grip like his whole body will curl up into himself. He overcomes the desire pretty quick, upping himself to sit shoulder-to-shoulder instead. It’s too pleasant a moment for him to let it be. His smile is more thief-like than Erik’s ever is, swiping it away before he gets too comfortable, and forgets there’s nothing yet between them.  _ Yet. _

“Next time… Should I try on the bunny outfit?”

The hit to his head is so swift he doesn’t even see it happen. But the pain is proof he won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

“Ouch,  _ I was just kidding.” _

His whining goes unacknowledged, no matter how he clings to Erik, his partner’s already sticking his nose to him. Of course, it’s only half-hearted, the Hero can feel Erik smile even when it’s not there. And though Erik acts like it’s no big deal, he always says just what the Hero needs to hear to pick himself back up. It isn’t just a personal affliction, this curse of shyness. He isn’t totally inept to it, the fact he doesn’t even have the words to define himself probably speaks to a bigger issue than just feeling embarrassed about putting on a skirt.

But as with everything else, he’s sure with Erik at his side, and everyone else, he’ll figure it out, eventually. He’s in no rush, cherishing these fleeting moments between them passing like the breeze through their hair.

It just doesn’t matter, whether he’s right in his convictions about his self image or not. The safety of this embrace is enough to last two lifetimes of self doubt, and one of eternal peace. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks. Comment. Stay Safe.  
> Do not say stinky transphobic things. 
> 
> I laughed a bit that there is a tag for calling Eleven eleven, I generally do but the way it reads in fics is a little clunky so I took a more generic route. Someday, I’ll make a cute nickname for the Hero.


End file.
